


Ensnaring the Senses

by Dexidoodle



Series: Graduation Day [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, I Don't Give Warnings, good luck, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexidoodle/pseuds/Dexidoodle
Summary: Snape goes on a sensory journey...A quick little one shot.  Unbeta'd





	Ensnaring the Senses

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a Tumblr post that said "I want another fanfic just like this fanfic... only different"  
> Hence the Graduation day Trilogy. 3 stories all different and independent of each other... but the same... kinda.

SCENT  
\-----

Severus Snape had dreamed about food that night.

It was noteworthy for a couple of reasons; First of which was the fact that he very rarely slept to begin with. His tortured and brilliant mind too jumbled with thoughts, memories and ideas to relax. Too used to over functioning on so very little rest. And secondly, when he did sleep, he never dreamed of anything as innocuous as the contents of a bakery display cabinet. No indeed, his dreams were normally more malignant in nature... and the less said about that the better.

As he lay amongst his slumber rumpled sheets, he reflected on his newest and most confusing night time projections.

He vaguely remembered rows of delectable treats, but most of all; cinnamon buns drizzled with decadent almond scented icing and vanilla tarts filled to overflowing with whole, vanilla pod custard. All were artfully arranged to their most pleasing, seeming to glisten behind the shining wall of slightly misted glass and each tasty-looking fancy filled the warm, moist air with intoxicating and strangely arousing fragrances.

Snape was a little out of sorts... Baked goods, regardless of how alluring they were, were not supposed to be arousing and yet the not unimpressive tent in his bed clothes told him otherwise. He was also feeling edgy and oddly restless. The foreign *Feelings*, he thought with a sneer, messed with his usual impeccable focus and that made him supremely bad tempered.

The *Feelings*, he thought with a sneer, did not abate as he began his day in earnest, rolling out of his bed and slouching into his bathroom for his morning ablutions without his usual flair. It may have had something to do with his unresolved morning arousal bobbing eagerly ahead of him with each step but he steadfastly refused to wank off to pastries!

That morning he sat in his usual seat at the end of the head table in the Great Hall. Glowering.

He pushed his breakfast disinterestedly around his plate and ignored his fellow staff members as they attempted to coax him into benign and, quite frankly, asinine conversation. His usual bacon and eggs on whole wheat toast didn't do it for him this morning. He desired something sinfully sweet...

He snorted, pushed his half full plate away from himself in disgust and stood suddenly from his chair, causing Pomona Sprout to jump slightly at the unnecessarily aggressive and abrupt movement. Without acknowledging the rest of the staff as they looked on in confusion, he turned and skulked from the hall via the staff entrance with a powerful billow of ink black robes.

He had classes to prepare for. More specifically, he had the returning NEWT students for a double lesson this morning. While a small class, it was filled with adult students who had missed their seventh year or had it disrupted by... well... him really. Him and the Deatheater regime in his disastrous turn as Headmaster. It still made him queasy to think of it. He was lucky to be alive (need not dwell on that) and lucky that Headmistress McGonagall had sought him out and asked him to return when Horace Slughorn had chosen not to.

Not many students chose to return, most taking the offered Ministry Free Pass. He had eight young adults across the four houses to bring up to speed in NEWT level potions. It was not so bad, they were more mature now, more subdued. Especially after the events of the previous year.

He pushed his way into his dungeon classroom and began to prepare for his class.

He was seated at his desk, glaring over his steepled fingers as his few students filtered in, quietly taking their places and unpacking their materials quickly.

Two Slytherins, two Hufflepuffs, three Ravenclaws and one solitary Gryffindor.

He waited in silence until all eight pairs of eyes turned to him attentively and with an elegant and seemingly negligent twist of his wrist, the blackboard filled with his spidery script spelling out the details of the days potion instructions.

"Well?" He snapped. "What are you waiting for?"

These students, well used to his terse nature, began their tasks undeterred; seeking their ingredients, reading through instructions and making notes and adjustments... These students were here because they wanted to learn and it was an actual pleasure to watch their solicitude.

It didn't take long for the class to fall into a rhythm with the cauldrons bubbling in earnest on each counter top, mauve and turquoise steam and sparks emanating from them and the students talking quietly about which method would be best to prepare the prescribed ragwort for its full effect.

Snape stalked between the work stations, peering over shoulders into cauldrons and into notebooks. Checking ingredients and preparations, always on the lookout for potential disaster. He didn't speak, he just hovered like an invasive wraith.

And then he froze mid step and inhaled deeply.

Cinnamon.

Almond..

Vanilla...

He turned his head slowly and found his prodigious nose directly over a mass of chestnut coloured curls.

Granger?

He'd been dreaming of Hermione Grangers fragrance?

"Miss Granger," He hissed, close to her ear. "What is that... odour... that you are polluting my classroom air with?"

She had turned her head sharply towards him in surprise, eyes widened in confusion and not a little bit of indignation.

"Sir?" She asked softly as she met his black glittery eyes.

"You seem to have bathed in a bakery." He growled, his voice low but easily drawing the attention of the other students. "It's overpowering. I cannot distinguish between it and your lackluster potion."

"Sir, it's the bodywash that my mum buys... used to buy for me." Granger replied, almost tripping over her words and lowering her gaze to his chest. "I've always used it... sir."

Always? and he'd only just noticed?

It made his mouth water in truth, he wanted to take bite out of her... lick the cream from his fingers... What?!

He covered his sudden flare of remembered arousal by glaring down at her, hoping she didn't notice his pupils dilate and his heart begin to pound.

"Today, Miss Granger," He growled, entirely wrong footed but hiding it admirably, "it is unacceptable. I suggest that you use it more sparingly in future."

There was a demure titter of muted chuckles from her classmates as her cheeks reddened in a quite becoming way.

He looked down into her cauldron with a sniff.

"Your potion is spoiled." He pointed out as dispassionately as he could. "Ten points from Gryffindor and you will return this evening at 8pm to do it over again."

He spun on his heel, leaving her standing in the aisle with her mouth hanging open in embarrassed outrage. He heard her vanish the contents of her cauldron in a fit of pique and begin to stuff her supplies into her satchel. Under normal circumstances, he would be smirking as he returned to his desk. Not today though, today his face was fixed in a bewildered frown.

\---------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* ----------------------------------------------------------

SOUND  
\------

There were only a few places in the castle that Severus was truly comfortable in spite of the fact that he had lived at Hogwarts, on and off, for the majority of his life.

1\. His quarters... Obviously. Even while he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus had maintained the dungeon abode as Horace had thought it tomb-like and a little demeaning.

2\. His classroom, where he commanded all.

3\. His private potions lab, as above.

...and 4. The library.

The rest of the castle was out of his control. Too many people, too many memories, too many eyes and ears.

The library was quiet, Madam Pince insured that, and it was chock full of knowledge.

Irma Pince and he exchanged a baleful glare as he entered _her_ domain on a cold, late winter afternoon. It was frigid in the dungeons that day so he chose to read in a quiet corner of the restricted section where few students dared tread. He could feel Irmas eyes on him as he slipped in between the stacks. He smirked to himself. The old biddy'd had to hunt him down constantly and reprimand him for his deplorable habit (her words) of making notations in the margins of which ever book he read. He didn't see it as vandalism (her word), he saw it as improving on a mediocre and poorly researched work.

It was passed dinnertime and most had retreated to their common rooms, leaving the library blissfully silent for once.

Severus searched the shelves of the restricted section and found a copy of "The Dying Art of Human Sacrifice: Ceremonies and Rituals that have Fallen out of Fashion by Virgo T. Mortem" and then settled into one of the more comfortable reading chairs at the end of the aisle.

He began to read, at times tutting softly to himself and finally reaching for the self inking quill in his pocket. He would snort at some thought or observation made by the 'author' and quickly go about correcting it and adding some of his own thoughts, after he had disabled the anti 'vandalism' charm of course. He was quite happy doing this for some time before he became aware of a sound. An irritating sound. A humming sound. A _student_ sound.

Severus huffed to himself and put aside his book. He glided to his feet and set to stalking the noise maker; waspish and hurtful comments already assembling on his sharp tongue, ready to let fly.

The sound was coming from where he was in the Restricted section, though all of the books were in a docile state at the moment so he was sure it was some student. Damn his colleagues for allowing people access willy-nilly to his... to the libraries... most dangerous books.

Severus edged around the corner of the last set of shelves and his dark eyes finally settled on her.

She was sitting crosslegged on the floor of the aisle, her skirt riding up to reveal a flash of creamy mid thigh. Her satchel was haphazardly at her side, like she had dropped it with little care and there was a bulky, open tome in her lap and her eyes scanned its contents keenly. She was humming. Humming a tuneless little song as she thumbed through the crackling pages before her. It was like she wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the whole world but where she was at that very moment. Completely content.

The sound suddenly didn't irritate him anymore for some reason. Indeed, in the past, house points would have been deducted and the guilty student would have been run from the library in tears.

Instead, Severus eased back around the corner out of sight and leaned back against the edge of the shelves. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes and listened to Hermione Granger hum, the sound interspersed with the flit-flit of pages turning. It was pleasant.

"'Mione...? 'Mione, are you back here?" a soft feminine voice called.

Snapes eyes snapped open.

"Here, Susan." Hermiones voice answered back in an equally soft tone, no doubt fearing Madam Pinces wrath.

Severus pressed himself back against the shelves as he heard Miss Bones make her way into the Restricted section. 'Not so 'restricted' it seems,' he mused to himself.

"There you are." Susan greeted Hermione as she crouched down next to her. "Dean said you'd be in here."

Hermione didn't answer, but there was the distinct thud of a book closing and being set aside.

"I wanted to talk to you... I've been putting it off..." Susan mumbled, her voice carrying easily in the quiet library.

"What's up?" Hermione whispered.

There was a protracted silence in the aisle as Susan, a notoriously shy girl to begin with, faffed about with whatever she was trying to get out. Severus rolled his eyes at the drama of it all.

"Well... you know Ron?" Susan muttered. Severus could almost hear her blushing from where he was concealed and rolled his eyes again.

"I am familiar with him, yes." Hermione replied, an amused smile evident in her muted voice.

"Ha..." Susan laughed awkwardly. "Yes, well, you see, I was wondering since you and he aren't... you know... together... anymore." She coughed and, no doubt, blushed more deeply.

Severus rolled his eyes yet again... he was bound to sprain his eyeballs at this rate.

Wait! Miss Granger was unattached?

"Well, would you mind if I asked him out?" Susan choked quietly, stumbling over her words as they gushed out in a rush.

There was silence in the aisle. Severus strained his head to the side in an effort to hear more.

There was a sudden tinkle of carefree laughter, like a genuine piece of angelic music. A very, very nice sound indeed, that was cut short but a loud 'shush' from the libraries front desk and Madam Pinces sour lips. Severus would hex that old bitch within an inch of her life for silencing that joyous sound.

From the aisle next to him Severus heard the quiet conversation recommence.

"You silly goose." Hermione whispered. "Of course you can. Ron and I didn't work, we're more like brother and sister than anything else. I think you and he would make much more sense." Hermione giggled sweetly, and Severus' heart skipped a beat (a claim he would later vehemently deny). "Is that why you've been so shy around me this year?"

"He was mad for you for so long and I thought..." Susans reply was cut off by a deafening sonorous charm.

"Ladies, If you insist of disturbing the peace in My Library, I must insist on expelling you both from it forthwith." Madam Pinces angry barking echoed around the library stalls.

"Yes, Madam Pince" The two girls chorused drearily.

Severus waited as they picked themselves up as quietly as possible. He heard Hermoine return her book to its shelf and the two 'ladies' made their way to the front of the library. He heard them both mutter apologies to Madam Pince as the doors swung closed.

Miss Granger was unattached.

\---------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* --------------------------------------------------

SIGHT  
\-----

Severus Snape started doing something that a teacher would normally believe to be unthinkable. He began looking at a student.

Seriously looking, which made him shudder with something akin to shame.

His dreams continued; still abstract, but full of meaning, mouthwatering fragrances and now the playful sound of delighted giggling.

He had known this young woman since she was eleven years old. The fact that he knew her when she was genuinely a child shouldn't mean anything should it? He didn't have thoughts or feelings for her then... quite the contrary, she was an annoying, attention seeking, insufferable little know-it-all.

She was nineteen now. A grown woman.

He was twenty years her senior. He was an authority figure. Fucking Hell!

Severus sat like a statue at his desk and looked over his classroom, seemingly bored and indifferent. She was in the third row, her head bent over her notebook, her quill seemingly in the grips of a lengthy seizure as she scribbled furiously with it. The very tip of her pink tongue was sticking out of the corner of her lips and he could not for the life of him tear his eyes away from that little detail.

He tried... He sincerely tried but his dark eyes were inexorably drawn back to her and her little pink tongue.

It was inevitable that his eyes started to wander over the rest of the studious young woman. Starting with the completely unmissable and chaotic cascade of chestnut coloured curls that topped her head and flowed over her shoulders in a riot. It was an impressionist masterpiece of intersecting skeins of silk, glinting in the dust mote laden air of the potions classroom and sparking back at the torches that lit the space with flares of copper, auburn and deep espresso. It was pulled back from her face by a thin red headband, though it seemed nothing could contain it as wisps had escaped and caressed her cheeks. She occasionally pursed her lips and blew at the wisps, sending them fluttering briefly only to have them settle again against her velvety skin. Her eyes were downcast concentrating on her work, he knew they were chocolate brown, with flecks of gold and amber. He remembered seeing them up close as she had taken Harry Potters place at his side as he'd lay dying. They had been red rimmed then and leaking glittery tears, her dark lashes spiky with moisture. Now, they were bright and clear. They ignited with intelligence, danced with happiness and soothed with compassion. There was some underlying sadness and grief though, but who these days did not have a little of that?

Her skin was pale with its winter pallor and a smattering of tiny freckles dusted her nose. Her tongue had retreated back into her mouth and now her bottom lip was caught up with her teeth. She released it suddenly as she perused her textbook, her bottom lip was plumped and glistening.

Bloody, Fucking Fuck!... She was beautiful.

She stood from her work station and swayed past his desk heading for the storeroom. Swaying was definitely what she was doing. She had a wonderful set of hips... a wonderful set of curves. Severus secretly thanked McGonagall in his mind for allowing the returning adult students to dress as they saw fit. Hermiones jeans hugged her arse quite pleasingly... and her tight red jumper hugged everything else. She had a magnificent set of tits.

She had become a stunning young woman. YOUNG!

She emerged from the storeroom with a skeever tail and a bundle of purple sage. She was ahead of the rest of the class if she needed those ingredients already, he mused watching her sway surreptitiously from behind a swath of his lank ebony hair. Crikey, had she installed a motor in her hips or something?

As she passed by his desk, the skeever tail wriggled free from her between fingers and fell to the floor. Snape swooped down on it, quickly picking up the slippery little sucker and holding it out to Miss Granger as it continued to squirm.

Her beguiling brown eyes, looked at the squiggly tail and then she looked up to meet his obsidian depths.

She reached out her hand and took secure hold of the twisting tail and her pretty face broke into a blindingly bright smile.

He stared back at her.

He began to feel lightheaded and realised it was because he had neglected to exhale. In fact, all respiratory and coronary functions seemed to have ceased for the duration. He was also not entirely sure that cerebral function had not somehow become impaired as well.

Exhale... Inhale... Exhale...

Really man, a smile from a pretty girl should have zero effect on your regular bodily processes. Grow Up!

Hermione relieved him of the tail, her delicate fingers brushed his lightly and she returned to her desk, unaffected and unaware.

He had a serious problem. She had literally taken his breath away. He was her teacher. He was so much older than she and she did not reciprocate his... *Feelings*... Oh Merlin... *Feelings*?

He gazed in her direction. She was slicing that damned skeever tail and her little pink tongue was making another appearance as she concentrated on her task.

She must have felt his hot eyes on her as she glanced up, the slicing motion of her hand stopped for a moment as their eyes met across the classroom. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a little half smile and Snape sighed inwardly.

He could think about her, that was fine... surely. He could look... he just couldn't touch.

\---------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* ----------------------------------------------------------

TOUCH  
\------

She was walking ahead of him towards the Great Hall and in her wake was that tantalising scent of sweet cinnamon, almond and vanilla. The fragrance enveloped him as he billowed down the corridor reminding him of his dreams. Those damned dreams had plagued him every single night since that first one: the one about the bakery, the one that told him what he desired without blatantly smacking him over the head with it. Only now he knew what those mouthwatering smells were... and they were swaying down the hallway before him now, in a skirt he was sure was much shorter than the school charter allowed, uniform or not. She wasn't wearing any tights or hose or anything, just long bare flawless legs. He wondered if she was cold at all.

He was quite happy appreciating her tiny waist and shapely bottom as it sashayed along before him, not unlike what he imagined a bag of playful kittens would look like. He was sure she had muscles at play that he had never seen before. He was so absorbed, that he almost failed to note Peeves carousing in the doorway of an empty classroom, malicious little bugger that he was.

Snape didn't see exactly what type of little jape Peeves had initiated but the result was Hermione Granger windmilling her arms all of a sudden and toppling backwards in a rush, her feet flying out from under her.

His arms whipped out to catch her seemingly of their own volition. Damn his snake-like reflexes.

The world seemed to slow down as it happened... every second felt like an eternity as his long fingered hands clutched at her, hooking under her arms and latching onto... Oh, for the love of... Her chest! Soft, pillowy flesh beneath a thin woollen jumper, a thin cotton shirt and what felt to be a lacy brassiere... he could feel the pattern of the lace on her bra quite clearly beneath the layers of clothing.

He should have dropped her. Dropped her to the cold hard stone floor like a hot cauldron, but it was as if his hands were fused to her perfect breasts.

Hermione looked up over her shoulder at him, her wide chocolately eyes (with a hint of gold and amber) peered up at him through her feathery lashes and a mass of chestnut curls, askew from her tumble.

"Oh, Professor... uh... Thank you, sir." She stuttered shyly, her cheeks stained crimson with embarrassment.

Her bum hovered only an inch from the floor and he loomed over her. He slowly eased her back to her feet.

Take Your Hands Off Her Tits! He shouted in his mind. Her soft, perfect, fits-in-the-palm-of-my-hand tits... boobs... fun bags... Shut UP!

She was on her feet in front of him, her back pressed to his torso. His hands peeled back from her breasts slowly... much too slowly to be gentlemanly, but then a gentleman wouldn't have his hands on her tits to begin with. He stepped back from her. She swayed back slightly as he left her and he touched her again, innocently this time, a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"Have you regained your equilibrium, Miss Granger?" He purred into her ear, his normally controlled baritone slightly breathy, much to his disgust. He sounded like a pervert.

He was a pervert.

He should not have touched her. He was a wizard, damn it. A Really Good One. He knew cushioning charms, levitating charms. He could have transfigured her into a beach ball and sent her rolling down the damned corridor.

But, No.

He had to catch her! He had to mould his long, elegant fingers around her soft malleable globes, palming her pert nipples. And yes, he had noticed that they had hardened into delectable little pebbles under his touch.

"Um, Yes sir." She replied shakily.

Her face was bright red as she turned to face him. He noted a few things then. She seemed as out of breath as he did, if not more so. Her pupils were dilated, her chocolate and gold irises all but disappearing in a wave of fathomless black. Her lips were plumped and glistening, like she had been repeatedly biting and licking them to a slick sheen.

Holy Merlin. She looked aroused.

"Do try to be more careful, Miss Granger." Her drawled silkily. "I may not be here to catch you the next time you should stumble."

He reached out his hand and tucked a few errant curls behind her ear and froze. Why had he done that?

Hermiones eyes shifted to his hand hanging in space by her ear and then zipped back to meet his.

"I think I can quite confidently say, sir, " Hermione said softly, "I doubt that you would ever not be there if I should need you." She looked up at him through her lashes and her tongue slid over her bottom lip. "You've never let me down before."

His hand dropped back to his side and he narrowed his eyes, peering down his nose at her.

Was that Flirtatious?

Doesn't matter... She's a student. A beautiful student with skin like satin and hair like skeins of raw silk. An 'of age' young woman who was moving towards him. His breath hitched in panic.

Her dainty hand reached out to him, her fine boned fingers curled around the high collar of his frock coat. She gently tugged the line of buttons straight, her fingernails lightly scratching his scarred throat as she adjusted his cravat into a tighter knot and then her palm smoothed down the row of buttons on his chest.

She looked up at him again though her lashes and caught her full bottom lip between her even white teeth. She bent her knees slowly and dipped towards the floor, her hand trailing slightly lower on his person as she went.

What! The! Fuck!?

She hooked her free hand through her satchels strap where it lay discarded on the floor, drawing it up over her shoulder. Her eyes fixed on his the whole time.

She straightened again and removed her hand from where it had ceased movement on his lower stomach.

"Thank you again, sir" She whispered, before turning from him and swaying down the hall, with the wiggle in her walk more pronounced than before.

That was definitely flirtatious.

\---------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* ------------------------------------------------

TASTE  
\-----

He couldn't NOT watch her now.

He dreamed of her, not even trying to deny himself as his hand strayed under the covers to wank himself to relief. Her enticing smile and wicked eyes on his mind as he tugged himself to blissful oblivion. Her undulating hips, her intoxicating scent and her tits. Fucking hell, those tits.

His imagination sustained him throughout the entire school year and he was sure that it would sustain him for long after it concluded and Miss Granger moved on to bigger and no doubt better things.

Though, he was somewhat... mystified... by Miss Grangers behavior. For while he watched her, it seemed that he caught her watching him in return all the more frequently as the year progressed. Her rich chocolatey eyes seemed to follow him and their gazes met with astounding regularity. She spoke to him more often, greeting him in the halls with her melodious voice soft and sweet. She touched him! Her warm little fingertips on his shoulder to attracted his attention, a lingering touch on his forearm while she spoke about her grades or some such.

She sent a Birthday Present to him. For Fucks Sake. No one had ever sent him a birthday present. No one even knew when his birthday was.

When the leaving feast finally arrived, Severus sat in his usual seat the the end of the head table and looked out over the Great Hall. The students sat and listened with indifferent or non existent attention as the Headmistress expounded on the years highlights (No one died...), awarded the House cup (Ravenclaw), Quidditch cup (Gryffindor... yawn) and made mention of the students who had excelled during the year... or rather the one student who excelled... Miss Granger.

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with her eyes lowered and her cheeks burning as the whole hall turned to look at her, some standing from their seats to crane their necks and get a good look at her... like they had never seen her before. Though NEWT results had yet to be made official, she had broken the record for the best scores Hogwarts had ever seen. Tom Riddles and Severus Snapes scores had been left in the dust.

Hermione looked up at Severus at the head table and he magnanimously inclined his head at her in recognition, her face burned even brightly than before. Severus thought she was quite beguiling and then mentally kicked himself for thinking it.

The feast began in earnest, the students attacking the heaping platters of food like rabid swine at a trough. Severus picked at his food, his dark eyes riveted on Hermione across the Hall from him.

She would be leaving. She would be going on to... whatever it was that she was going on to, he didn't know. He hadn't asked. All he knew is that she would be gone.

He was suddenly angry.

It was all her bloody fault! He'd had nothing to look forward to before, nothing to miss and then she had to swan back into the school; smelling like she needed to be licked from head to toe, sounding like an angel, looking like a goddess and feeling like an X-rated daydream. Fuck it!

He stood up abruptly... You'd think Pomona would be used to it by now, he thought, as she jumped slightly in her seat... and he swept from the hall, he didn't want to look at her anymore. He wanted to sulk all alone.

And so he did. He folded himself into his chair by the fire in his rooms and glared at the flames in the grate thankful that soon the castle would be quiet and empty. He would be able to peruse the library at leisure once Irma went home for the summer. He would have ample time to pursue some potions and dark arts research. He would absolutely not think about the beautiful young woman spreading her wings and setting out into the wizarding world, probably to turn it on its ear. He would stay at Hogwarts this summer and for the rest of his life. He had nowhere else to go...

He was forced from his gloomy reverie by a light tap on his door. He glowered at it, they would go away, whomever they were.

A second tap resonated from the door... a little more hesitant sounding than the first. They were losing their nerve, whomever they were.

Good. Sod off. Leave a miserable old man to his miserable misery.

"Professer Snape?" The soft, musical voice was muffled by the thick english oak door and a few layers of particularly malicious wards, but it was undeniably Hermione Granger. Snape had never moved so fast in his life as he did leaping from his chair and flying to the door of his private quarters.

He quickly slicked a hand through his lank hair (why? what would that accomplish?.. nothing, it fell right back where it started, limp against his cheeks) and yanked the door open.

Hermione flinched back from the door as if flew inwards abruptly but recovered quickly, straightening her shoulders and clasping her hands before her. She looked up into Snapes eyes, her gaze faltering at first but then hardening into a steely, very determined resolve... she was about to give him 'what for' for something.

What had he done? ... recently...?

Best strike first.

"Miss Granger, I believe my tenure as your teacher is over." His left eyebrow hitched as he sneered down at her dismissively. She was wearing a very nice summer dress in buttercup yellow.

"Yes, sir. You are no longer my teacher." She agreed softly.

Her eyes suddenly lasered into his, sparking amber and gold. Snape found himself suddenly dry-mouthed, he tried to gulp some moisture into his throat, his adams apple bobbing nervously.

He was unprepared for the fast series of movements that followed. Flashes of her prowess during the battle of Hogwarts came into play in the most dizzying manner. Her delicate and surprisingly strong fingers whipped out and latched onto him, one hand catching the front of his frock coat, the other slithering to the back of his neck, drawing him, rather aggressively, downwards. She stretched up on her tiptoes and damn near slapped him in the face with her lips.

He was frozen in shock, oddly bent over, his lips pursed in a very unkisslike fashion. His eyes were wider than he could ever recalled them being, they might very well have fallen out if his eyelids had the ability to stretch even further. Snape was by no means a man who could be shocked easily after everything he had been through, but right now his entire body had simply faltered to an abrupt halt.

Hermione drew back from him quickly leaving him bent over and with what must have been a most undignified look on his face. The look on her face was very different from what it was before her kiss. She looked mortified... horrified... and she was about to flee. He was profoundly grateful that at least one part of him had the presence of mind to react. His hand whipped out and grabbed hold of her wrist before she could even turn away. He dragged her through his door, slammed it closed and pressed her up against it.

And he kissed her. Kissed was not the right word. He MAULED her.

He was astounded to find that she attacked him back with equal fervour.

She tasted of spearmint toothpaste, which his bemused mind found odd. She had been at the feast not long ago, he had seen her nibbling roast chicken and yams. Had she brushed her teeth before coming to his quarters? She has planned this?

He realised as his cognizant mind came back to him that his tongue was firmly entrenched in her mouth, possibly disconcertingly so. He wasn't sure, he hadn't done this for a while... or ever.

His tongue retreated, he eased himself away from her and blinked befuddledly down at her.

Holy Fuck! Everything about her in that moment was fucking gorgeous.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips plumped and glistening, her eyes were pools of blackness ringed in amber and gold. She stared up at him, panting. He then noticed that his hand was clutched to her left breast, the other lost in her magnificent hair and his knee was wedged firmly between her thighs. He had torn one of the minuscule straps holding her dress up.

He gulped, ready to retreat from her completely. The little lioness had other ideas. She grasped the hem of her little dress and pulled it up over her head in one rapid maneuver. Snape was now confronted with a set of tiny buttercup yellow knickers and acres of ivory flesh, rounded to perfection. What should have been flawless skin, was blemished by a litany of scars from the war gone by, but which made her all the more fierce to behold.

Severus suddenly felt very much out of his depth. It was a sensory overload as far as he was concerned.

Her dazzlingly dark eyes swept over him taking in his buttoned up appearance with a kind of feral hunger.

"Not my teacher." She murmured absently, reaching out a hand and flicking open the top button of his frock coat.

And then the next, and the next. Snape breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring as she slowly relieved him of his armour.

Anxiety flared. Miss Granger was the epitome of perfection. He was somewhat less so. He was too tall, too slim and much too pale. He was practically cadaverous, yet he could make no move to stop her. One by one his buttons parted, Frock coat first, then his shirt and then her hands were on his flesh. A soft warm hand smoothed over his torso, from his sternum to his collar bone and down to his belly button. She seemed awestruck by his pasty white skin. Where she had a few small scars, he had deep, tearing gouges taken from his skin, but she didn't seem to see them, didn't seem to care. He closed his eyes when she leaned forwards and lay a soft, sweet kiss over his heart.

Things progressed rather quickly from there. They may have got a little out of hand. Lips met, teeth clashed, tongues tangled and clothing disappeared... Literally. To this day Snape had no idea where he had vanished his underwear to, they could be hanging from a tree in Bristol for all he knew.

He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him. He lifted her by her round, pert bum and carried her over towards the hearth rug. His bed chamber was much too far away. He lay her down with a little less care than he should have and joined her on the deeply piled mat. Supported by his bony hip and gangly elbow he leaned over her sipping at her skin, lightly sheened with sweat and tasting like ambrosia. He worked his way from her lips and down, ghosting over her decolletage and stopping at her breasts. He'd dreamed of these tits and now they were right there, as perfect as he had imagined. He dipped his head and enveloped one tight little nipple in his lips, tonguing them with a savage type of reverence. His hand covered the other, rolling and massaging the globe like it were play-doh. He could have stayed there quite happily, drowning in her flavourful breasts but he had more to discover.

His mouth abandoned her nipple and moved south, his hand lingered for a moment longer loathe to relinquish it's hold. 

Hermione was making the perfect sounds, hums and moans that stirred something deep in Severus and she was certainly not acting as a passive participant. The young lady seemed to undulate beneath him; one hand was in his hair, wrapping the lank strands around her knuckles and keeping a firm hold. She guided him where she wanted him. The other delicate hand groped and found his hard cock and wrapped around it with a firm grip. She stroked him once, twice and then had to let go as he moved down her body and out of reach.

He found himself looking down on a neat thatch of curls. They smelled of her body wash, so very sweet but with an extra, bonus muskiness that made him want to beg for mercy. Moisture clung, dew-like to the bronze tangles and he dipped again to taste, groaning after the first touch against his taste buds and burying his face in her snatch in earnest. She squealed and sat up a little, crunching her stomach muscles and wiggling. She lay back down with a moan, whispering his name. The sweetest sound he'd ever heard, his name falling from her lips in ecstasy as he lathed her folds with his sharp dexterous tongue.

He always knew his long, elegant fingers would come in handy one day. He pushed one inside her and massaged her inner walls with precision, inserting another shortly after to do a more thorough job. She was tight, hot, wet and willing... and loud. She became tighter and louder, she began to thrash her head from side to side, her fist yanking at his hair like it was a life line. He doubled his efforts, sucking on her clit and pressing into her more vigorously until her back arched off the rug and she wailed. He felt her walls constrict and flutter. He'd made her come. Fucking Hell, he had to get in on this.

He hauled himself back up her slick, lithe body and nestled his lean frame in between her open thighs, wasting no time in placing his now aching cock at her entrance.

"Hermione." He gasped.

She opened her glassy eyes and locked her gaze with his as he eased inside her, almost coming undone as he felt her still quivering in the aftermath of her orgasm. He stilled once fully seated and stared down at her, so beautiful and wanton. And his now, as far as he was concerned. His kissed her forcefully, possessively and began to thrust into her.

\---------------------------------------- *~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* ------------------------------------------------

And so it was, they found themselves draped rather inelegantly across the hearth rug in post-coital bliss before the cheerily flickering flames in the grate. They had not spoken at first (Severus must have been more out of shape than first thought and was gasping like a bellows at the foreign physical activity. That might have had something to do with it.) but now they were chatting away like they had always done so. Quite amiable

It didn't take long for Snape to broach a subject that had him bemused still.

"What was the goal in coming here, Hermione?" He asked gently, his baritone rumbling.

A tinkling giggle floated up from near his chest. "Like most of my goals, it has been achieved." That should have sounded arrogant but Snape smirked. Indeed.

I'm too old.

"And what pray, is your end game?" He muttered, burying his nose in her sweet smelling hair.

"I was hoping that we could see each other." She replied, cossetted safely in his arms, her voice still breathy from exertion. "With the eventual possibility of you becoming my boyfriend... maybe."

He snorted. Boyfriend... What an abominable moniker.

I'm too Old.

"I refuse to be addressed as such, Miss Granger." He growled low, running his hand slowly up her side. "I insist that you cease and desist with the use of such a deplorable epithet immediately."

She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. Her hair seemed have given up all pretense of not being a bramble patch. It stuck out rather hilariously in all directions.

"So you will consider being a boyfriend, but not be called one?" she asked, her voice sounding more than a little hopeful. "What would you like to be called instead?"

I'M TOO OLD.

His face was thoughtful for a moment. "Collaborator." He decided.

She chuckled and lay her head down again. One of her dainty fingers began to draw a ring around his nipple.

"Hi, My name is Hermione Granger and this is my collaborator, Severus Snape."

Snapes heart leaped. The ridiculous smile he knew to be on his face said it all. He was well and truly ensnared.


End file.
